The Scarlet Letter

Original Text

Modern Text

On the wall hung a row of portraits, representing the forefathers of the
Bellingham lineage, some with armour on their breasts, and others with stately
ruffs and robes of peace. All were characterized by the sternness and severity
which old portraits so invariably put on; as if they were the ghosts, rather
than the pictures, of departed worthies, and were gazing with harsh and
intolerant criticism at the pursuits and enjoyments of living men.

On the wall hung a row of portraits showing the Bellingham ancestors, some
wearing armor and others wearing ceremonial collars and robes of peace. They all
shared the stern character common to old portraits, looking more like ghosts
peering down in judgment at the pursuits of the living than paintings of
departed statesmen.

At about the centre of the oaken panels, that lined the hall, was suspended a
suit of mail, not, like the pictures, an ancestral relic, but of the most modern
date; for it had been manufactured by a skilful armorer in London, the same year
in which Governor Bellingham came over to New England. There was a steel
head-piece, a cuirass, a gorget, and greaves, with a pair of gauntlets and a
sword hanging beneath; all, and especially the helmet and breastplate, so highly
burnished as to glow with white radiance, and scatter an illumination everywhere
about upon the floor. This bright panoply was not meant for mere idle show, but
had been worn by the Governor on many a solemn muster and training field, and
had glittered, moreover, at the head of a regiment in the Pequod war. For,
though bred a lawyer, and accustomed to speak of Bacon, Coke, Noye, and Finch,
as his professional associates, the exigencies of this new country had
transformed Governor Bellingham into a soldier, as well as a statesman and
ruler.

A suit of armor hung near the center of the oak panels lining the hall. Unlike
the portraits, the armor was not a family heirloom. It was brand new, having
been made by a skilled metalworker the same year Governor Bellingham arrived in
New England. There was a steel headpiece, a breastplate, a collar, leggings, a
pair of gloves, and a sword hanging beneath—all so highly polished, especially
the headpiece and breastplate, that they shined white and scattered light across
the floor. This bright gear was not merely for show. The Governor had worn it on
several training fields, and when he sat at the front of a regiment in the war
against the Pequot Indians. Though Governor Bellingham had been trained as a
lawyer and was well versed in the works of the great legal minds of his day, the
new country had transformed him into a soldier, as well as a statesman and
ruler.

Little Pearl—who was as greatly pleased with the gleaming armour as she had
been with the glittering frontispiece of the house—spent some time looking into
the polished mirror of the breastplate.

Little Pearl, who was as pleased by the gleaming armor as she had been by the
glittering house, spent some time looking into the polished mirror of the
breastplate.

“Mother,” cried she, “I see you here. Look! Look!”

“Mother,” she cried, “I see you here. Look! Look!”

Hester looked, by way of humoring the child; and she saw that, owing to the
peculiar effect of this convex mirror, the scarlet letter was represented in
exaggerated and gigantic proportions, so as to be greatly the most prominent
feature of her appearance. In truth, she seemed absolutely hidden behind it.
Pearl pointed upward, also, at a similar picture in the head-piece; smiling at
her mother, with the elfish intelligence that was so familiar an expression on
her small physiognomy. That look of naughty merriment was likewise reflected in
the mirror, with so much breadth and intensity of effect, that it made Hester
Prynne feel as if it could not be the image of her own child, but of an imp who
was seeking to mould itself into Pearl’s shape.

Hester looked, humoring the child. The large, curved mirror reflected the
scarlet letter in huge, exaggerated proportions. It was easily Hester’s most
prominent feature: She seemed absolutely hidden behind it. Pearl pointed upwards
to a similar reflection in the headpiece and smiled at her mother with her
familiar elfish gleam. That look of naughty merriment was also reflected in the
mirror, large and intense. Hester Prynne felt it couldn’t be the image of her
own child but rather that of an imp trying to mold itself into Pearl’s
shape.

“Come along, Pearl!” said she, drawing her away. “Come and look into this fair
garden. It may be, we shall see flowers there; more beautiful ones than we find
in the woods.”

“Come on, Pearl,” she said, pulling her away. “Come and look at this lovely
garden. Maybe we will see flowers there more beautiful than the ones we find in
the woods.”

Pearl, accordingly, ran to the bow-window, at the farther end of the hall, and
looked along the vista of a garden-walk, carpeted with closely shaven grass, and
bordered with some rude and immature attempt at shrubbery. But the proprietor
appeared already to have relinquished, as hopeless, the effort to perpetuate on
this side of the Atlantic, in a hard soil and amid the close struggle for
subsistence, the native English taste for ornamental gardening. Cabbages grew in
plain sight; and a pumpkin vine, rooted at some distance, had run across the
intervening space, and deposited one of its gigantic products directly beneath
the hall-window; as if to warn the Governor that this great lump of vegetable
gold was as rich an ornament as New England earth would offer him. There were a
few rose-bushes, however, and a number of apple-trees, probably the descendants
of those planted by the Reverend Mr. Blackstone, the first settler of the
peninsula; that half-mythological personage who rides through our early annals,
seated on the back of a bull.

Pearl ran to the bay window at the other end of the hall and looked along the
garden path, which was carpeted with well-mowed grass and bordered with a crude
attempt at shrubbery. It looked as though the Governor had already given up on
replicating an English ornamental garden in this hard, unforgiving New England
soil. Cabbages grew in plain sight, and a pumpkin-vine had stretched all the way
across the path and dropped a pumpkin directly beneath the window—as if to warn
the Governor that this great gold lump was the only ornament this land would
offer him. Yet there were a few rose bushes and some apple trees, probably
descended from the first trees planted by the Reverend Mr. Blackstone, the first
settler in Massachusetts, who was rumored to have ridden around on a
bull.

Pearl, seeing the rose-bushes, began to cry for a red rose, and would not be
pacified.

Upon seeing the rose bushes, Pearl demanded a red rose. She would not be
quieted.

“Hush, child, hush!” said her mother earnestly. “Do not cry, dear little
Pearl! I hear voices in the garden. The Governor is coming, and gentlemen along
with him!”

“Hush, child, hush!” her mother pleaded. “Don’t call out, Pearl! I hear voices
in the garden. The Governor is coming with some gentlemen.”

In fact, adown the vista of the garden-avenue, a number of persons were seen
approaching towards the house. Pearl, in utter scorn of her mother’s attempt to
quiet her, gave an eldritch scream, and then became silent; not from any notion
of obedience, but because the quick and mobile curiosity of her disposition was
excited by the appearance of these new personages.

In fact, a number of people could be seen walking down the path toward the
house. Pearl, in defiance of her mother’s attempt to quiet her, gave a loud
shriek. Then she fell silent—not out of obedience, but because her curiosity was
aroused by the appearance of these new people.